A Husband for Deva

Confrontation

Jenia stood in the doorway of the Scientific Library with a small slate in her hands, looking far too satisfied to bode anything good. How long had she been standing there, watching? Deva darted a panicked glance at Brialach and Ashlen.

Ashlen drew herself up with icy dignity, somehow becoming taller and more queenly. "Why do you not curtsey in the presence of royalty?"

Smirking, Jenia bobbed an insolent half-curtsey. "Pardon me, Princess Ashlen, I... forgot." There was no fear on her face, just a sort of avid gratification mixed with disgust.

If she'd seen magic, she'd be frightened, wouldn't she? Maybe she just thinks we're fools for playing catch with a ball of wool, maybe she didn't notice that our hands weren't touching it. Deva forced herself to smile. "Hello, Jenia. What brings you to the Scientific Library today?"

"Taking inventory. Her Majesty has made me Mistress of the Household Candles." Jenia held up the ring of master keys that hung from a leather sash at her waist. A smug tilt to her chin made plain her awareness of the keys' power. "The Fortress must be well-lit for Midwinter... even in rooms one would expect to go unused."

"Congratulations." Deva tried to sound as though she meant it. Jenia with keys to every room, free to sneak about and pry into anything she pleased.

"Thank you." Jenia smiled slightly. She still stood in the doorway, showing no inclination to either leave or enter and complete her task in the room.

Brialach's face hardened as he looked from Deva's pinched expression to Ashlen's frostiness and the satisfaction on Jenia's face. "Kanýt riya vethe kevadhe?"  he asked his sister in an undertone, his hands curling into almost-fists.

"Ocalót tiyes!" Ashlen shot him a fierce look. "Deva, Brialach asks if we know this person. Brialach, Jenia used to be Deva's lady-in-waiting — you may have met her when you arrived."

"Ah," he said, remembering with narrowed eyes. "The girl who called me foreigner. Who ignored me when I asked her to leave our bedchamber."

This won't end well. Deva placed a soothing hand on Brialach's arm. "I'm sure she meant nothing by it." Even as she said the words, she felt the wrongness of them, and Ashlen's look of disappointment stung her. Oh, Lord of Light, I don't mean to defend Jenia, I just don't want them to provoke her.  "That is, things have... worked out for the best..."

"Yes. You've done very well for yourself, Jenia," Ashlen said. "Mistress of the Household Candles is an honorable promotion. You must be pleased."

Jenia laughed, sweet but cold. "I am. After all, a married slut is still a slut, you know? It's as well to be in a position where I can't be tainted by it."

A lump of shock and fury and tears lodged itself in Deva's throat. I can't have heard that correctly. Did she really...?  The crude language hurt like a slap.

The bandhi  in Brialach's hair flickered with dangerous intensity. "Do not speak of my wife in that way."

"Prince Brialach, you  were the one who mentioned your wife. I spoke only in general terms. But have a care that your dark arts don't land you all in trouble." Jenia crossed her wrists with a moue of pious disapproval. "Her Majesty the Queen wouldn't like to hear of it."

"Sith valthodhe!"  Brialach groped for the pendant of his torcha, and streaks of angry radiance swirled around him. "You. Will. Leave. Deva. Alone." His voice held a resonance that reminded Deva of Father Angad intoning the Call to Light, and it echoed as though they stood in a much larger room.

Ashlen groaned and clapped a hand over her face.

Jenia seemed not to see or hear her, only repeating after Brialach in an oddly flat tone, "I will leave Deva alone." She paused, looking puzzled, then shook herself and cleared her throat. "Yes. Alone  is exactly where she should be." She lifted her slate and took a stick of chalk from her pinafore pocket. "Three candelabra and six wall sconces in the Scientific Library, a dozen candles in all, and only three in want of replacement before Midwinter." Then, with a slow, precise curtsey that conveyed utter disdain, she turned on her heel and sashayed away.

"What was that?" Deva asked.

Brialach hung his head. "Mae mahri," he said, which she was pretty sure meant an apology.

"My brother just used the fitánga – what you might call words of compulsion," Ashlen said, with a grimace of affectionate exasperation. "But he needs to learn to choose his terms with more care. There are many ways to interpret leaving someone alone, and not all are good."

His shoulders slumped a little further, but he took Deva's hands in his. "No matter what happens, I will protect you," he promised.

"Don't worry, nothing will happen," Deva assured him. "Mother hasn't the patience to listen to tattletales right before Midwinter, and who else would Jenia tell?"

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♥ I had to do a lot of uncomfortable thinking for this chapter. To avoid confrontation, Deva tells Brialach that Jenia "meant nothing by it" when she called him a foreigner. Is that cowardice, abetting prejudice, or just trying to keep herself and her loved ones safe? Was it a mistake?

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